


Fundraiser (50 KW prompt #19: Handcuffs)

by flinchflower, nubianamy



Series: Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Discipline, Dom/sub, Donutverse, Handcuffs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 Kinky Ways prompt #19: Handcuffs.  Carl convinces Davis to help him raise money for a cause, but all is not what it seems.  Carl/Davis backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fundraiser (50 KW prompt #19: Handcuffs)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing Carl/Davis/Shelby's backstory, and I just posted the first part of that, entitled By Grace My Heart Grows Stronger. If you don't want spoilers, read that first, although it's not complete. 
> 
> As with all the KW, this is heavy on the m/m physical stuff, also mild D/s and discipline. Thanks to Flynn Anthony (flinchflower) for writing this with me. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -amy

 

**Summer 1993, Ann Arbor, MI**

"So what's this fundraiser all about, anyway?" Davis stirred the oatmeal once before turning down the burner and leaving it to cook. He cocked his head at Carl, seated at the kitchen table. "You said it's for - what, disabled vets? I get why that would be important to you. But how does it work?"

"The fundraising team will be bringing in friends and family, in and out all day - there's a bank of phones set up, and they'll debate with the emcee as to how much any individual person will raise," said Carl. "They'll pick people up, transport them there and back, as a nod to the part of the community that might not be able to get there otherwise."

"Yeah, okay," Davis said absently. He got as far as getting the bread out and putting it in the toaster before he turned to stare in confusion at Carl. "Wait. You want me to help with this, but -  _what_  exactly do I have to do?"

Carl shrugged. "Call family and friends, explain what the charity event is for, and ask if they'll donate. Not that hard."

"Oh. Well, I guess I can do that." He relaxed a little, still sending suspicious glances across the kitchen at his roommate. Carl usually came up with innocuous plans that somehow turned into the most complicated, confusing activities.

"Great!" Carl flashed him a smile that always seemed to make Davis weak in the knees when it was trained on him. "It's a really important issue," Carl continued on earnestly. "It'll be fun, you'll see. The emcee is awesome."

"You know I'm happy to help. My dad was a medical corpsman in the Navy, back in Vietnam. I'm sure he'll be willing to donate, and his three brothers." Davis got the jam out of the fridge, thinking. "My aunts, probably."

"See? That's exactly why you'll be great for this. Thanks for helping, I really appreciate it." Davis watched Carl gathering up his bag and books, heading for the door. "I'll see you over at the Union after lunch; we booked a room on the second floor."

"Have a good day," Davis called. Then he noticed the toast. "Hey - don't you want some breakfast?"

"Have to skip it today. Thanks, anyway." Carl was already halfway down the stairs.

Davis wasn't worried about calling his family to ask for money, especially not for a military fundraiser. He even considered including Bebe's family; after all, they were still married, even if she'd practically abandoned him and Carl to go live with her sister after she'd gotten pregnant. He squirmed a little, spreading the butter on the toast.  _Yeah, it's Carl's baby. So what?_

He sighed. He was probably not going to be married to her much longer, that's what. She wasn't interested in sticking around to raise this baby, even if Carl wanted to, and she wasn't going to let Carl have her either. She'd already been very clear about what was going to happen with the baby - and what Bebe said usually went.  _My sister can adopt her,_  she'd said. _She took Jesse when Davis and I had him. Rachel would love another baby._

But Carl wasn't at all sure he wanted his daughter to be raised by Bebe's sister all the way out in New York. He'd already mentioned his friends Leroy and Hiram in conversation more than once. They were looking to adopt, and they were not only successful and secure, but they were involved in the kink community just as Carl was. Carl was pretty persuasive, himself. If Carl could manage to win an argument with Bebe, it might be possible that their baby would go to live with Leroy and Hiram.

Davis shook his head. This wasn't the first time Bebe had given up a baby for adoption. No, the first time, it had been his own son - Jesse - who'd been handed off to Rachel and Nathan. He and Bebe had only been high school students at the time; he knew it had been the right decision. He leaned heavily on the counter and sighed. Just because it had been a good decision hadn't made it any easier.

Davis shook off the melancholy mood. Today, he wouldn't think about Bebe, or her sister, or the baby. Today was about Carl, and how Davis could help him raise this money. It would be fine.

* * *

Harrison shook his head. "Let me get this straight. I'm going to cuff him, use the Voice on him... and you're saying he has  _no_  idea he wants this?"

Carl stood next to Harrison, grinning up at the big man. "Yeah. And he'll resist, you know. Just remind him that I'm here, and I'm expecting him to follow through."

Carl thought about the handcuffs in his back pocket. It was the perfect scheme. An innocuous jail and bail fundraiser - the details of which he'd managed to gloss over while adhering to perfect truth this morning. He was rather looking forward to seeing Davis in the handcuffs into which Harrison would fasten him. Then he'd bring him to the "jail" that was set up on a platform at the front of the room, where he'd be ordered by Clyde the police officer to raise a certain amount of money.

"No problem, Carl."

Clyde raised an eyebrow, linking an arm through Harrison's. "And when Harrison drags Davis back here?"

Carl rubbed his hands together gleefully. "When he comes up before you, sir Judge, sir, set his bail amount  _high_. His dad is a vet, and he's got a big family."

Clyde rolled his eyes. "I'm just about ready here. Did you get the copies of the forms?"

"I did. All right. Thank you, and I'll see you later - I'm on transport duty for an hour, but I'll make sure I'm here when you capture Davis." Carl strolled back down into the room, to the man who'd been appointed as record keeper, to check out who he was being sent to pick up. The cuffs chafed against his ass through his jeans. He liked the feeling. Hopefully Davis would too.

Right on schedule - Davis was nothing if not punctual - he arrived, peering around the large room. Carl hid behind a pillar, watching as Clyde approached him purposefully.

Clyde pulled his badge out of his pocket, along with the handcuffs, and Davis' eyes went wide. "Clyde- shit, man, I-" Carl could just hear their conversation above the noise of the room.

"That's enough out of you, boy," Clyde barked. "You need to go up before the judge, let him set the penalties."

"But I - what did I do?"

Clyde looked at the man, eyes twinkling. "You volunteered, Davis. Now come on, don't make me throw you over my shoulder and have to do this the hard way."

He got a firm, flat hand between Davis' shoulder blades, propelling him forward fast enough to stumble, cuffing his hands securely behind his back. He twisted his hands in the cuffs, but they didn't move much.

"Here we are, boy," Clyde said with some relish, leaning heavily on the word  _boy._  "Up against the judge here..."

Davis looked up at Judge Harrison with wide eyes, blinking back what were threatening to be tears. Harrison, meanwhile, was very convincing, gazing down at him with a stern, forbidding expression. His strong bass voice boomed out, and Davis actually cringed.

"I see you're in a spot of trouble here, Davis. Carl was good enough to give up your name to us. I think I've got just the sentence for you. Fifteen hundred dollars, in three hours - or there'll be consequences, understand?"

He licked his lips. "I... what?"

"You did volunteer to help with the fundraiser?

"Uh, yes, but-"

"So you're committed, boy. Clyde'll set you up with a telephone and the forms for the donations - and, Clyde? This one looks like he might be a runner - you might want to cuff him to the table." Harrison winked.

The cluster of people watching the goings on laughed, and a few of them applauded. Davis swallowed, his face pale, but two red spots appeared on his cheeks. He followed Clyde without complaint, his head drooping between his shoulders.

Carl managed to restrain himself from laughing out loud, aware that Davis was uncomfortable. He was confident that the boy would relax as he began making calls, speaking with family members and friends. His plan was unfolding excellently so far. He found himself a seat in the back of the rows of chairs set up for the audience.

"Your poor, straight roommate looks more terrified than angry," Carl heard, and he turned to see Leroy Berry sitting next to him, smiling and nodding at the "stage."

"I don't think he really understood all the...  _the details_  about this fundraiser," Carl murmured, and Leroy hummed awareness. "It was a surprise. A purposeful one, perhaps, but his reaction is genuine."

Leroy narrowed his eyes. "What kind of reaction were you expecting, exactly?"

"Watch," Carl replied smoothly.

* * *

Davis' first call was to his dad, who chuckled when Davis explained what was going on, and promised him five hundred dollars outright. He looked up and caught Carl smiling at him in the crowd. Hiram and Leroy were in the audience as well; they gave him a little wave. He smiled weakly back; he didn't actually feel like smiling, but he never wanted to be less than polite.

Clyde strolled by, a nightstick in his hand that he was tapping in his palm, and he stopped, seeing Davis writing.

"Got one already, Davis?"

Davis nodded.

"All hear! The prisoner has begun to make amends! Five hundred dollars, to the disabled veterans fund; let's hear it for prisoner Davis!"

There was a wide smattering of applause from all around the room, and he smiled tentatively.  _Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all._

The rest of the family wasn't quite as forthcoming, he soon found out. He felt like he was drowning in a stack of ten, twenty, or thirty dollar donations. A thousand dollars was going to take forever.

On top of everything else, the heavy sensation of the cuff around his left wrist was beginning to make him feel funny. It wasn't  _discomfort,_  exactly, but he was having trouble concentrating on what he was doing. The way it tugged at his wrist and restricted his movement was distracting. More than distracting, he realized with dismay - it was sending tingling shivers down the backs of his thighs, and there was a persistent tightening in his groin. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus.

Carl seemed to be watching as his discomfort grew. At one point he strolled on up, speaking briefly to Clyde. Clyde came back to Davis, unlocking the handcuff, though he didn't unlock the one on Davis' wrist. "We'll trust Carl to take you for a break, it's an hour and a half. Two hundred and fifty left to go, boy, you're doing a good job. Go on, get some water, have a bathroom break - I'm sure Carl will help you." And with that, he snapped the handcuff back on, so that Davis' hands were linked securely behind his back.

He was too busy blushing to see Clyde hand the key off to Carl.

* * *

The bathroom was just down the hallway and around the corner, but Carl took him along the back hallway to the mens' room on the third floor instead, not wanting Davis to feel any more uncomfortable being on display in front of the whole campus like this. No matter what he thought Davis might want, Carl was very clear that he was pushing boundaries about consensual experiences here.  _And no matter how lovely he might look in those cuffs._

"You're doing fine," he said quietly, close enough to Davis that he would hear without being obvious. Carl watched Davis' head sink lower as Carl guided him into the bathroom, one hand on his shoulder.

"I'm  _not_  doing  _fine,"_  Davis snapped. "You're the one who made me do this. I had no idea what was happening until Clyde threw those c-cuffs on me."

Carl blinked, astonished. Davis never spoke in any kind of an angry tone, but right now, he was clearly pissed.

"Davis, it's a  _fundraiser_. I explained that to you."

Davis glared, struggling against the cuffs, and banged into the edge of the sink. He swore. "You didn't say I'd have to - in front of everybody, on the stage? Wearing  _these?_  What kind of a - I'm not like you, Carl, I don't do this kind of thing... _"_

"I don't see how you could have missed that," Carl said calmly. "I told you there'd be an emcee there, I explained quite clearly. And what the hell? Davis - you're a  _dancer._  I've seen you on stage performing in front of hundreds more people than are in that room today - who, by the way, applauded for your successes? And everyone else brought into the room was cuffed too."

Davis' breath was coming shallow now, his teeth bared in a grimace. "You have no idea how it feels to be up there, knowing everybody's watching me be - when I'm feeling -" He paused, staring at Carl with a clear appeal on his face. But Carl wasn't giving him an inch.

"Feeling like what?" Carl asked.

"Like I'm in the fucking bedroom with my wife, that's what!" Davis exploded. Carl took a step back, trying not to crowd him, but the bathroom was small, and he could only avoid contact for so long. "Nobody else needs to see  _that._  It's private. But I know everybody could tell, Carl... it was  _embarrassing._ They could see me right under the table."

"Yeah," Carl said, his voice low. "I could see. It was hot, man."

Davis stopped his next sentence before it began, his eyes widening.

Carl cleared his throat. "You're supposed to be taking a break." He nodded at the urinals and smiled slyly. "I could give you a hand there, if you want." He laid a hand on Davis' shoulder.

"I -" For a moment, Carl thought Davis might take him up on the offer. He looked so torn, his wanting palpable. But then he dropped his eyes and shuddered out a breath. "No thanks," he said flatly. "I don't do that."

Carl pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking Davis' right hand only, and opening one of the stall doors.

"There you go, not a problem," Carl told him. "You can take care of it yourself. I'll be outside when you're done." He went to close the door behind him, and stopped as he heard Davis' desperate words, begging him.

"Please - don't leave me alone."

"All right," he reassured Davis. "I won't." Carl looked around, finally choosing to lean against the closed stall door. He could hear Davis' breathing inside, the shuffle of his feet, the slight rustle of his khakis as he unzipped them and let them fall around his knees. Carl closed his eyes, trying not to dwell too heavily on the image of Davis without pants, or what he was probably doing on the other side of the door.

He hesitated, then spoke as quietly and calmly as he could. "You seemed surprised that I was watching you on the stage, Davis. I've been sleeping with your wife for over half a year. We've been housemates for most of that time. Surely it hasn't escaped your notice that you're an attractive young man, or that I've been paying attention to you."

He heard Davis' breath catch, and resume, double time, accompanied by a low groan. Carl smiled to himself.

"Yes. I've always been interested. It was never just Bebe that I was attracted to. But I wasn't sure how you felt - I've respected those boundaries - and now I want them clarified, so I can be certain that I'm doing the right thing."

"Cl-clarified?" he heard, Davis' voice shaking. "I don't - are you asking me - Carl, you know I don't feel like that about guys."

Carl half shrugged to himself. "How can you know if you've never tried?" He dropped his voice lower, almost whispering, leaning closer against the stall door. "Don't tell me you're not thinking about it right now. Don't tell me you didn't consider saying yes, when I offered a moment ago."

Davis was silent, even the sounds of his body going still. Carl waited for a long, tense moment. Finally he sighed.

"Come on out of there. You need to get back to the phones, and after that, we can go home and talk it over."

"I don't... think I can do that," Davis said, sounding apologetic. "Not... no. I can't."

"You can and you will. Get out here, Davis. Stop hiding."

Another long silence. And then he heard rustling and zipping, the latch on the door opened, and Davis stepped out of the stall, red-faced and avoiding Carl's eyes.

Carl reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, steering him out and over to the sinks, where he stood behind Davis. Davis didn't move, and Carl waited another moment before reaching around him to turn on the taps.

"Go on. Wash up."

"Nobody needs to see me like this," he protested, thrusting his hands under the water.

"Like what?" Carl inquired mildly.

"Oh, give me a - like  _this?"_  Davis snapped, gesturing at his obvious erection.

Carl didn't think about it, he just brought his hand back and slapped Davis' ass, hard.

" _Davis."_

Davis's reaction was dramatic and immediate. He put out his hands to clutch the sink, his wet hands scrabbling for purchase. His breath huffed out in one quick exhale, and he stared into the mirror, meeting Carl's gaze over his shoulder, his own eyes round as dinner plates.

"Yes," Carl said. "I thought so. You are going to dry your hands, go back out to the telephones, and finish the job you volunteered for. Then we'll go home, and we  _will_  talk about this, Davis, mark my words." Carl flinched a little to himself, hearing one of Tess' pet phrases slip out so easily and naturally.

"Yes - okay." Davis barely moved, but his eyes shifted to take in Carl's hands, his stance, his expectant expression.

"Now, are you coming? Or I could always spank you properly, I can be quick about it."

" _Carl!"_  Davis whispered, but he went without any further fuss, seeming a little more at ease. His hands went back behind him, one wrist clasping the other. Carl was certain he wasn't even aware of it. His eyebrow raised, but Carl took the silent plea for what it was, and fastened the cuffs back on.

And then he led Davis back into the room, to mild applause, and handed the boy off to Clyde.

* * *

They were both silent in the car on the way back to the apartment. Davis ignored a call from Bebe. Carl was watching him carefully, but he didn't seem upset. Davis, on the other hand, wasn't sure he was ever going to be able to look his roommate in the eye again.

"You made your quota in record time," Carl said, flicking on his turn signal. "Good job."

"Thanks," Davis said softly. "I'm - well, I'm glad I could help."

Carl pulled the car into the drive-thru of a fast food joint, ordering burgers and fries for both of them. He handed Davis' food to him with a stern look.

"Get some of that down, please."

Davis didn't argue. He just ate the burger, even though it wasn't the kind of food he usually chose for himself. By the time he looked up again, the fries were halfway gone, too. He gazed down at the empty wrapper in surprise.

"Guess I was hungry?" he said. Carl nodded, taking a fry for himself.

"Some things take a lot of energy out of you. Why don't you go first in the shower. I'll clean up out here. I want to talk to you before you go to bed."

Carl wasn't looking at him when he said it, but Davis felt like he'd been reprimanded. He flinched, thinking with hot embarrassment about the moment in the bathroom, and felt a twinge of shameful response.

"All right," he muttered. He slunk into the house, going straight to the bathroom and stripping off his clothes, trying desperately not to give into his body's confusing desires.  _I'm married,_  he thought, soaping his legs and stomach and chest, keeping his hands away from the space between his legs,  _and I love my wife. No matter what else I might... want. God._

He was safely back in boxers and a t-shirt and covered by sheet and blanket by the time Carl came in and sat on the edge of his bed. Carl put a hand on his ankle, which was enough to make his heart do funny things, and handed him a cup of water.

"Drink," he said softly, and Davis did. He couldn't avoid watching Carl, watching  _him_ swallowing the water, and breathed a little faster as he thought about Carl's words to him in the bathroom.  _You're an attractive man, and I've noticed you._

"So..." Carl reached in his back pocket and took out a pair of -  _gah -_ handcuffs. They were not unlike the pair the police officer had attached to his left wrist this afternoon. He watched Carl dangle them casually from one finger, and gulped. "These... were more than just restraints today. Weren't they?"

He couldn't bring himself to lie to Carl. And it wasn't as though Carl wouldn't understand, considering his second profession. "Yeah," he said, his voice low.

Carl nodded, and shifted a little closer on the bed toward him. Davis tried not to draw away, but just sitting there, feeling his  _presence,_  with this new awareness of something more between them - it was almost too much.

"I won't lie. I suspected you wanted that." Carl gave him a faint smile as Davis' eyes widened. "I just needed confirmation." He ran his hands up Davis' ankle to his knee. Davis heard himself make a small noise. "I'm going to offer to put these back on you, now."

He felt suddenly dizzy, like he'd been shoved off the edge of the bed. "Why?" he blurted.

Carl stood up. "Because you want them. Because you need them. Because you would never ask for them, and I know how it is to need something you can't ask for." His gaze intensified, and Davis took a breath. "Because I want to."

"O-okay," Davis said.

He sat, passive and tense, as Carl took his arm and pulled him forward, onto his knees. Any ground he'd gained toward greater self-control was immediately lost in the moment Carl pulled his hands behind his back. He heard Carl chuckle quietly.

"I told Bebe once that you weren't my type." Carl's hands were warm and strong and moved with confidence, snapping the cuffs around his wrists. "That may be the least believable lie I ever told."

Davis had no response to that, but he felt like he had to say something. "Oh."

"Yeah. On top of you being gorgeous and tall and intelligent, I've always had a thing for submissive men." Carl stroked a hand down Davis's back, making every nerve along the way light up. Davis struggled to keep his breath even. "Come on. Lie down here against your pillow."

Davis tried to arrange his hands in a comfortable position behind his back, but eventually he just gave up and decided to be uncomfortable. There wasn't anything  _comfortable_  about this situation. He avoided Carl's gaze until Carl took his chin in his fingers and made him look at him.

"In the bathroom," he said. "I offered to help you take care of this. I gave you a choice."

"Yeah," Davis whispered.

Carl leaned in closer. "It will always be your choice. You can always say no, and I'll always listen. Understood?"

"Yes," he said, a little louder.

Carl held up the key in his fingers, right in front of Davis' nose. Then he turned and threw it into the hallway, where it made a clink against the wall. Davis sat in shocked silence, watching as he turned back to him.

"I'm going to offer again, now." Carl laid his hand against Davis' jaw, running his fingers down to his chest, his stomach. Davis's hips bucked up, seeking contact, and he blushed crimson, expecting Carl to laugh, but instead he heard him moan.

"What are you doing?" Davis asked, feeling a little frantic.

"I'm going to take off your shorts," Carl said, kneeling on the bed in front of him, "and give you the best blowjob of your life. And I think I can say that with confidence, because I know exactly what kind of blowjobs your wife gives, and honey, she could use some practice."

Davis shuddered at the sensation of Carl's warm breath on his stomach. "I can't - I don't -"

"It's okay to want it. It doesn't have to mean more than just this. Two people, needing something." Carl carefully drew his boxers down over his hips, lifting them over his ass and down his legs. "Go on - tell me you  _don't_ want it."

It would be absurd for him to try, given how hard he was, and the way he strained toward Carl's mouth. "But how can it  _not mean_  anything more?" he choked. "God, you have me - I'm handcuffed on my bed and you're kneeling between my legs. That  _means something."_

Carl moaned again, and Davis almost passed out at the sensation of Carl's soft stubble against the head of his cock. "You don't have to think about that now. Just feel. You want it? Say yes."

"Yes," he cried out. "Please, fuck,  _yes."_

It was probably less than fifteen seconds in all, between the moment Carl's mouth closed over his cock and the last wrenching thrust of his orgasm, but Davis felt like he would always remember every moment of it, the heat and slickness and steady pressure on all the exact right spots. Carl didn't even flinch at Davis coming in his mouth.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide from Carl, knowing he couldn't. When he opened them again, Carl was off the bed, picking up the key, unlocking the cuffs. It wasn't until his arms came around Carl's back that Davis realized he was crying.

"It's okay, honey, I'm here, I've got you." He pulled Davis down beside him on the bed, wrapping him up tight. "You're such a good boy... letting me take care of you like that."

Davis let him wipe his eyes and pull his shorts back up, but he wouldn't let go of Carl, not even to snag the blanket. Carl ended up using his foot to pull it up high enough to drape over Davis' shoulders.

"You knew I wanted the cuffs," Davis said, between shaky breaths. "You tricked me into doing that fundraiser."

"I suspected," Carl clarified. Davis could feel that he was hard against his leg, but Carl wasn't moving, wasn't asking for more.

"You  _suspected_  I would get turned on by getting cuffed and being on that stage?" He glared at Carl, but it was more reproach than anger. "Carl, it's not like I've never heard of men loving men. I'm a dancer. I'm in theater. Why were you so sure I was wrong about being straight?"

"Davis, I have eyes. I knew it from the first day we met. Watching you and Bebe together, I could tell what you wanted, what you needed, even if you couldn't. And honestly... I thought, if anybody could get you to admit you were anything other than straight, it would be Harrison. Doesn't he have a hell of a sexy voice?"

Davis groaned. "God. And you said he's a real judge?"

"In a way." Carl propped himself up on one elbow, smiling down on Davis. He didn't seem to mind Davis clinging to him, not one bit. "He's a choir director. He's one of the regional judges for Ohio show choirs."

"He - what?" Davis struggled to sit up, but Carl held him down with one hand, laughing. "You're a complete shit, Carl Howell. I suppose the police officer was pretend too?"

"No, he's really a cop," Carl said. "They both like to put cuffs on beautiful young men, though. I suspect either one of them would love a playdate with you."

Davis stared at him, taking in that idea. It was a few moments before he could speak again.

"I'm married," he said weakly.

"Yeah, and you'll forgive me if that argument doesn't really hold water with me, considering it was  _your wife_  who originally tried to seduce me." Carl stroked Davis' chest idly. It was remarkably calming. "And who ran off to New York, anyway? She doesn't have a leg to stand on."

Davis lay there another minute while he sorted through the words tumbling around his head. "You don't think she'll be surprised to hear I let you - that we - that I'm a -"

" _Davis."_  Carl spoke gently. "Just say it."

But Davis shook his head, closing his lips on the impossible thing he was thinking.  _No. This isn't me. This isn't happening._

Carl sighed again, and his arms came around him again, holding him tight. "It's okay. You've had a long day, and I think you should get some sleep."

"Okay," he said, his voice sounding as small and miserable as he felt. But he couldn't hold back a yawn as Carl climbed off the bed and helped Davis tuck himself under the covers. The chaste kiss Carl pressed to his temple didn't feel bad. Within minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

Carl didn't go right to bed. He sat in the family room of their crummy rental house, hanging on to the quiet and taking deep breaths for a good half hour before he could begin to pick apart his reactions.

There was the arousal, but that was nothing new. He'd had to admit pretty damn quickly that his "straight" roommate turned him on. The first time he'd seen him shirtless, wet from the shower, his shaggy blonde hair falling in his eyes, Carl had actually stopped in his tracks. Davis might be pre-law, but he had a dancer's body, and it was just as muscled and lithe as Carl could have wished for - if he'd been invited to look. Which he hadn't been, so he'd tried to keep his eyes to himself.

But they did share a lover, after all, and Bebe hadn't been shy about hanging all over either of them around the house. The walls were thin enough that Carl could hear them both, when they were doing whatever boring vanilla sex acts they chose -  _not_  that he was imagining them having sex, or anything.

And there had been that one time, when Davis had been a little drunk and Bebe had been a little horny and Carl hadn't put up a fight. He hadn't touched Davis, no, but there might have been some ogling, and a tense moment of grinding with Bebe in the middle. All his fantasies that night had definitely centered around a particular pair of strong hands, touching him, stroking him, and he hadn't even felt guilty about it.

But tonight... if he had to be completely honest, he  _did_  feel a little guilty about what he'd done to Davis. Manipulating him that way, even if he'd been able to come clean about it later... well. It might have had its intended result, but it clearly hadn't been the best way to go about it.

In addition, he hadn't been teasing when he'd suggested setting up Davis with Harrison or Clyde. He'd seen the way Harrison had looked at Davis. It was much the way he imagined he himself had looked at him: like he was a new delicacy, a tasty young treat to devour. But he hadn't counted on his own response to the idea, the clenching jealousy he'd experienced at the thought of Harrison taking Davis down into subspace.  _He_  wanted to be the one to do that.

He knew the definition of a man who acted before thinking, and who found himself in a pickle because of it.  _A brat._ No doubt about it: Carl needed Tess. He picked up the phone and called her before he could talk himself out of it.

He could hear the music as the call connected, and wondered what she was doing. He hoped she wasn't working.

"Why hello, darling. I haven't heard from you in a little while. Is everything all right?"

He tried not to imagine her smirking, feeling himself balk at the tone of her voice. She damn well knew something was the matter, for him to call her this time of night. He ran a hand over his neck and closed his eyes.

"Tess... ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I think I made... a mistake. Not a grievous error, but... I might have hurt a friend, and I could use some advice."

There was a pause, and the faint sound of papers rustling, and then - damn. She was working. That was the all-too familiar squeak of the chair in her office, which always made that sound whenever she - well, he could picture it, her leaning back, shifting her weight away from the desk, and raising an eyebrow at him.

"You know you're not a bother. Out with it, Jesse, and don't waffle about the background story, either." Her voice was brisk, though her tone was nowhere near as sharp as it could be when she was annoyed with him.

"It's Davis. Bebe's husband, you know I've been suspecting he's a closeted sub. I thought - if he could just get over some of his hangups, you know, let himself _feel,_ instead of being -" He shook his head. "I should know better than to listen to myself when I think I've got a great idea."

" _Jesse._  We are not starting this conversation with you wallowing. Do you understand me, young man? Now give me facts, Carl Jesse."

"He - I cuffed him. Or my friend Harrison did. To a table, and he made phone calls, asking for donations - and he did so  _well,_  and it was all for me, just to please me, I mean,  _god_ , doesn't that indicate something? And -"

Carl heard the little sigh that often indicated she was pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to hold back frustration. He closed his mouth.

"Jesse, that is not the background I'm hearing - that's the middle of the story. Now get hold of yourself, please. Let's start with - was it a fundraiser?"

Carl explained the fundraiser, relieved when he heard a pleased noise from her, explaining what it was for.

"And you saw this as a magical, marvelous opportunity to stick this boy - how old is he, again?"

"Nineteen. He's ready, Tess, honest - "

"So you put this nineteen year old - a  _teenager,_  Carl Jesse - into cuffs, in a public place, and pointed out to your friends how beautiful his reactions were?"

"Uh..." He bit his lip. "Kind of? It was just Harrison and Clyde, really - oh, and Leroy and Hiram were there, too..." He sighed. "Okay. Yeah, that does sound pretty bad."

"And pray tell, my boy, how did he react?"

Carl smiled a little. "He got, uh, aroused. I took him to the bathroom to give him a little privacy, and he was really conflicted, didn't want me there but didn't want me to go, so I just talked him down. It was textbook, Tess, the way he reacted. I knew what he needed, but he wasn't having any of it. I took him home and put him to bed."

"Define textbook, young man."

He perched on the couch, trying to remember everything that had happened without getting lost in the details of Davis' reactions. "He wanted the cuffs. I barely had to mention them before he agreed to put them back on. And once he did, he was completely... open to suggestion."

Carl heard the quick huff of her breath that meant she was trying to keep a grip on her temper. He scrambled to explain. "It's a pattern I've noticed, from the very beginning, Tess, this is nothing new... he's  _gay,_  really..."

"So in other words, you put an innocent into a situation that likely frightened him on some level, took advantage of his vulnerability, and got your way in the end."

He hung his head, resting it in his hands. "God. Did I do that?"

"It's sounding very like that," came the grim words from Tess. "So exactly how far did this go, once you got him home? Please don't tell me you took advantage of sub-drop to turn the situation further to your advantage."

"Um... maybe?" He felt the heat of his blush and groaned. "I tried to let him know he was free to say  _no,_  and I would listen to that... but maybe that wasn't enough. Tess, you've got to understand, this wasn't for me, it was for  _him."_

"Oh, I think I do understand, young man." He heard the sound of pages turning, and she made a small, pleased noise. "You are going to drive down to Tessera tomorrow, and you are going to spend two days with me there, so that I can show you just how well I understand. We  _will_  talk about this, Jesse, mark my words."

He just about choked, hearing her own phrase echoed back to him, so soon after he'd said it himself. "Yes, thank you, ma'am," was all he could say.

"I realize that the two of you are cohabitating, and that you no longer have the tempering presence of Davis' wife," she said, and she sounded as if she were gritting her teeth, but maybe that was an exaggeration. "You will restrain from further activity with your teenager between now and the time you leave tomorrow, unless it is  _explicitly_  requested of you, without you prompting or prodding for it. Do you understand me?"

He let out his breath slowly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Excellent," she told him. "I shall see you tomorrow at Tessera - be certain that you pack your paddle and bring it with you, Jesse."

He winced. "Good night, Tess. Thanks for listening."

* * *

Carl went right to his own bed and slept, hard, after that, and didn't bother to set an alarm - which is why it came as such a surprise to find, when he woke up in the morning, he wasn't alone.

"Mmmmm..." he murmured, putting out a hand to touch the man lying beside him on top of the covers. Davis gave him a tentative smile.

"Sorry to come in without knocking," he said. Carl sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes. "I woke up this morning and I - I couldn't get back to sleep. I was thinking about last night, and what we did, and what it meant."

 _Last night._  "Yeah," said Carl. "About that. I have to apologize. I was out of line."

"You - want to apologize?" Davis looked startled. "Are you saying you didn't really want -?"

"What? Oh. Oh, no. I really wanted." Carl chuckled, trying to clear the gravelly morning tone from his voice. "Trust me, I've been  _wanting_  for a while. That didn't make it right, what I did."

Davis bit his lip, touching Carl's hand, resting on top of the covers. "That didn't make it wrong, either. I mean, it didn't feel wrong. I mean..." He blushed, staring at their hands. "I wanted it, too."

"I'm glad," said Carl. "You don't have to be sure about anything. It's a lot to think about, all at once."

"Maybe, yeah. But..." Davis' blush intensified. "The cuffs. When they were on, even when I was just making phone calls, cuffed to the table... they did something to me. I felt - god, I don't even know what I felt..."

"I know, man. Believe me, I understand." He curled his fingers through Davis', trying to be comforting. "The cuffs are kind of like a trigger, to help you get into the right mindset to acknowledge your desires, to submit to your own needs. Everybody responds to them in a different way."

Davis looked up and met Carl's gaze. His eyes were so blue, and so uncertain, but Carl was a little startled by the heat he saw in them. "I'm - responding to them, all right. I can't really think about anything else."

"Ah. Are you asking me to cuff you again?"

Davis' breath caught, and he barely hesitated before nodding. "See, as soon as you even  _said_  that, I wanted - things. Things I didn't know I wanted. But you, you seemed to know I wanted them."

Carl's mind raced ahead to some of the  _things_  Davis might be wanting. He was suddenly excruciatingly aware of himself, naked and turned on under the thin sheet. "I did suspect, as I said. You clearly want somebody in control. Sometimes that's all it takes." He began to reach for Davis, but he made himself pause. "May I... try something? You can stop me at any time."

"I - no, I don't want to stop you. That's why I'm here. I felt bad for last night because - because I  _don't_  want to say no. I wanted to -" He glanced down at Carl's lap, where his arousal was poorly disguised under the sheet. "Touch you. To show you... how much I wanted it."

"I know you did, honey." The endearment slipped out, but Carl didn't think Davis minded. "But you seem to think you didn't give me something I needed last night. I didn't come looking for that."

"No?" Davis looked uncertain again.

"Don't get me wrong, here. You can touch me all you like." He took Davis' hand and put it on his leg, on top of the sheet. Davis gasped a little, but he smiled, and responded to Carl's nod by running his hand up the inside of his thigh, nudging Carl's erection. Carl breathed into it, not looking away from Davis' eyes, alight with desire. "I think if you'd wanted that, you could have had it at any time. But I think I know what you really want."

Davis's lip curled. "Yeah? You're going to read my mind and tell me -"

Carl took Davis' wrist with one hand and twisted it up over his head, swinging his leg out from under the covers and straddling Davis in one smooth motion. Davis cried out, but not in fear, and he stared up at Carl with shock and anticipation. Carl could feel Davis' own arousal pressing against him through his boxers.

"I think," he growled, "I  _know_  what you really want."

"God," Davis whimpered as Carl took his other wrist. He turned his head to one side, baring his neck, and that was all Carl needed. He leaned in and put his mouth on that perfect golden skin and bit down, hard. Davis's whimper turned into a moan of pure need.

"Tell me if it hurts," Carl said, but Davis just bucked his body up against his, rubbing shamelessly.

"No... no hurt..." He moaned again. "Feels  _good."_

Carl felt the desire and control sweep over him like a curtain, and he claimed Davis' mouth without asking, this first kiss entirely his to take, as far as he wanted. When he pulled away, Davis was gasping and straining for more, spread wide open. It was impossible to resist.

"You're so fucking  _hot,"_  Carl muttered, burying his teeth over and over in Davis' neck, his shoulder, his throat. With each bite, Davis became more pliable, until he was literally begging for more,  _please, god, Carl,_  again and again.

Carl reached for the cuffs hanging from the bedpost and snapped them around Davis' wrists. Without even being asked, he kept them over his head. Carl stroked them admiringly.

Davis shuddered. "I want - I need -"

"I know. You don't have to worry about anything." He drew his hand down along Davis' arms, the curve of his ribs, down past his cock to the gaping edge of his boxers. "I'll take care of all of it."

Carl didn't question the need for a condom. He never had; growing up sleeping with men in the late 1980s automatically meant protected sex, every time. But it did cross his mind, as he dug in his drawer for the bottle of lube, how he and Bebe had had that one spectacular failure of prophylaxis, leading to her pregnancy. He didn't have to worry about that with Davis, at least. Davis lay very still while Carl took off his boxers.

"Relax," he commanded, delighting in the feel of Davis opening up for his slick finger."Have you ever done this before?"

"N-no." Davis' eyes were closed, his forehead furrowed, and he was clearly trying hard to follow Carl's instruction. Carl smiled.

"Such a good boy. You're doing it just right." He kept talking, making his voice low and soothing, keeping Davis' attention on the sound and not the sensation. He knew from experience that the first time bottoming could be uncomfortable, even painful, and he wanted to make it as easy as possible. But as he watched, Davis' face smoothed out, his eyes still closed, and he felt Davis clench around the pressure from his finger. Carl hesitated. "Is that okay?"

"More," Davis begged.

Carl very carefully added a second finger, but Davis apparently wasn't having any of this  _careful_  business. He thrust insistently against Carl's hand. " _More,"_  he said, louder.

"I'll give you  _more,"_  Carl told him, thrusting harder. Still there was no complaint from Davis, he just spread himself wider and let Carl add a third finger. Carl was starting to feel a little anxious. "Are you sure that doesn't hurt - ?"

Davis let out a cry as Carl bent his fingers, just a little. " _No,"_  he pleaded, "no, it doesn't,  _please?"_

"Jeez," Carl muttered, "a little pushy?" But he withdrew his fingers and wrapped his slick hand around Davis' cock, stroking lightly.

Carl had had numerous lovers in the course of his life, men and women, of varying levels of experience, but this was the first time he'd ever done this particular act with a  _friend._ He'd come to know Davis well over the past six months, and it was nothing short of remarkable to watch the reserved young man squirm and thrust and fall apart in front of him. Carl found himself a little overcome with emotion as he leaned into him.

"You're doing so well," he assured Davis, panting a little as he maintained self-control, using all his skill to get the angle right, to make this first time good for him - and then he felt Davis' strong, muscular legs wrap around his waist like a vise. He found himself flat on top of Davis, their faces nose to nose.

"God, Carl," he whispered hoarsely. "How did I  _never know_  I wanted this? How is it that I  _didn't_ know?"

Carl kissed him, wrapping his arms around him, and held him close. "It doesn't matter. It only matters you want it, now. And I'm here to give it to you, if you want that."

Davis' hips hadn't stopped moving since Carl had slid inside him. His eyes were half-lidded now, his body loose and insistent, thrusting into Carl's cupped hand. His lips curved into a smile. "Do I  _want_  that? You're seriously asking me?"

"No," Carl said, smiling back. He raised himself up on his knees, gripping Davis' hips, abandoning all pretense of doing anything but  _just fucking him._  "I'm not asking."

In the most vindictive, mean-spirited corner of Carl's heart, he wished he could send Bebe a postcard of this moment.  _See,_  it would say,  _I knew what your husband needed all along. And it wasn't you._  More than that, though, he felt so grateful that Davis was willing to take it from him.

That gratitude carried him through both his and Davis' climaxes, through to the aftermath, in which Davis shook for an entire minute in Carl's arms while he uncuffed him, held him, kissed him and whispered gentle encouragement in his ear.

"Now you've done it," Carl said, wrapping them both in the blanket. "Do you think you'll want to do it again?"

"Oh, yeah," Davis whispered. He let Carl hold him a little tighter.

"So... last night, I said this could just be... what it was. Two people, needing something. That it didn't have to mean anything else." Carl nuzzled his ear. "Do you think it means something now?"

Davis turned glistening eyes toward Carl. "Maybe?"

Carl gave him a long look. Then he took one finger and very deliberately poked Davis under the arm. Davis twisted away, but Carl poked him again until he was laughing.

"Hey!" he cried. "You're  _tickling_  me?"

"Until you say what it means," Carl agreed, moving his fingers down to Davis' ribs.

Post-orgasmic Davis was in no shape to defend himself. He threw up his hands. "I surrender!"

Carl grinned, cupping his head in one hand. "Well?"

"I think it's fair to say my sexual orientation has made a swift and decisive shift," said Davis, a little breathless, "I guess the only question is, how gay am I?"

"On a scale of one to ten?" Carl kissed him, long and deep. "I think only time will tell."


End file.
